Life's What You Make It
by wobbear
Summary: Remember that Skype call Grissom had with the two Mrs Gs, and how Grissom said the three of them would have dinner "soon"? Read on.
1. Chapter 1

**Title** Life's What You Make It  
><strong>Author<strong> wobbear  
><strong>Rating<strong> T  
><strong>Pairing<strong> Grissom/Sara  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong> I really don't think TPTB will be worried, or even concerned, about this.  
><strong>Author's notes<strong> This is the massively overdue fic that **elfling65** won in the fandomaid auction for Japan much earlier in the year, or at least part 1 of 2. Her prompts were: rain, Hank drooling, a blackmail photo op, nail polish - two down, two to go. The title was inspired by the Talk Talk song, not the Hannah Montana version – just wanted to make that clear! Set after _The Two Mrs Grissoms. _Hope it's worth the wait.

**Summary** Remember that Skype call Grissom had with the two Mrs Gs? Read on.

* * *

><p><strong>Life's What You Make It<strong>

"So, what was with the African Violets?"

"Hah, yes, the 'vegetation'..."

Grissom sensed Sara's hesitation and decided to prod her a little. "I know Mom was apologizing for something, but what? I got that you both seem to seem to have buried the hatchet, but not what the problem was."

He saw Sara gather herself, and then ... the screen froze on a picture of her looking off to the left and frowning, as she contemplated what to say.

Grissom waited for a few seconds and when nothing changed he clicked the large red 'End call' button. Quickly he hit the video call button again and crossed his fingers for good measure. The Skype software made a new connection and soon, Sara's face reappeared, animated once more.

"Hey, Gil ... I dunno what happened there, but we're back."

"So," he repeated, "what was with the African Violets?"

"Weeeeelll, it's a long story ..." Sara shook her head, trying to dissuade him from wanting to hear more.

Grissom shrugged, and smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging way. "It's pouring outside, we won't start working until the rain stops and has dried out some. I have plenty of time." He schooled his face into an expression of calm interest and waited.

Sara took in a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly as she started to speak. "During the investigation at the Gilbert College Betty was ... sniping at me about how our long distance marriage wasn't a real marriage, and I ... uh ... let rip, saying that although it was unconventional, what we have works, that we love each other..."

Grissom smiled as he signed 'I agree' but Sara was on a roll and didn't notice. She continued, "I said we were a family, and if she didn't want to be part of it that was her call."

She paused and looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction. His poker face was nearly intact, but the sparkle in his blue eyes gave him away.

"Hence her rather cryptic email asking what sort of gift you might appreciate."

"Yes, hence. Vegetation, Gilbert? Not very original," she chided half-heartedly.

"Yes, vegetation. It worked once when a Grissom was being clueless and insensitive toward you, so why not again?" He cocked his head coyly and then ruined the effect by winking.

"But I swear, she's like Hank with a bone, only without the drooling. She just couldn't let it go. No sooner had we agreed to start over than she's talking about our sex life!" Sara's indignation was making her talk fast, very fast.

"Yeah, I tried to distract her ..."

"What were you thinking? Your trick of changing the subject by launching into a detailed exposition on something esoteric or arcane usually works well, but for it to work you actually have to _change_ the subject." Sara shivered at the memory. "Sexpots? What on earth possessed you?

"Uh, sorry ... but I had just bought a present for you and ... uh ... " his voice trailed off.

Sara giggled, her eyes alight. "Let me guess, is it a small pottery item with images of underdressed people on it?"

Grissom laughed. "You read me so well."

"My husband, the open book. Anyway, I didn't want to start a fight on Skype, so instead I talked to her again after the call."

Grissom's raised eyebrow asked her to elaborate.

"We've come to ... an understanding. Yes, that's what it is. We agreed that we both love you and to let it be."

"Why I do I get the feeling you're not telling me the whole story?"

"Um, I dunno ... probably ... because I'm not."

Sara stretched her arms above her head and rolled her shoulders as she lowered them, releasing tension. Grissom knew that eventually she would start to talk and he privately resolved not to interrupt. He decided to put his thoughts in brackets, [like so], until she had finished.

"It was a challenge, because I wanted to make sure she understood me. I signed it all."

Grissom looked impressed, and held his hand out, encouraging her to continue.

"It went something like this ..."

"Do you know when Gil lost his virginity?"

[No, she doesn't. She would never dream of asking me that.]

Betty looked shocked and said, "No, I never ... would never dream of asking him that."

Grissom bit his tongue and stifled a snort.

"You raised him, you changed his diapers thousands of times. You've definitely seen him naked more times than I have."

[I think I see where you're going with this.]

"Betty nodded, starting to look a little pensive. I really got into it then.

"Whereas me, you've seen me, fully clothed, what, maybe ten times, and you somehow feel entitled to ask me about, to- to comment on the intimate details of my life, my sex life. I get that you want your son to be happy, but hey, newsflash, so do I."

[That's my girl.]

"I'm paraphrasing a bit, but ... ya know. I wasn't so wordy, signing."

Grissom bit his lip, trying not to smile as he nodded silently and Sara continued.

"Then I said, 'Did your mother, no, better, your mother-in-law, ask about your sex life with your husband?'

"Betty started to look somewhat sheepish, and signed, 'She just told me to make him happy.'

"I do, he is, _we_ _are_ happy. Why can't _you_ just be happy too?"

[ Well put.]

"Then I couldn't remember the sign for 'understand' so I spoke, I mean I know she's a great lip-reader, so I made sure she was looking at me ..."

Sara's voice drifted away as her eyes looked off into the distance, replaying the scene in her memory.

Grissom decided she needed a nudge. "Uh, honey ..."

"Yeah, sorry, I was just remembering. I asked, 'Do you get that?' and she said, exaggerating her lip movements, to be sure I followed her. It was kind weird coming from her, but she said-"

Grissom suddenly _knew_, and blurted, "Yes, I get it loud and clear."

Sara burst out laughing, and ended up head in hands, gasping for air. Grissom watched and waited with a sinking feeling of misgiving as she got her breath back.

Sara rubbed the hysterical tears from her eyes and looked again at the screen, mirth still not far from the surface. "Okay, explanation please. How did you know?"

"It's ... a sort of family tradition, I guess. It started when I was about nine or ten ... " Grissom pursed his lips, thinking back. "Uh, nine and three quarters. I was being stubborn about cleaning my room."

"You being stubborn, picture that!" Sara chortled, then waggled her hand for him to go on.

"Yeah, well, I had everything, all my specimens and experiments, exactly where I wanted them, and Mom was insisting it was a mess and I had to tidy it to her satisfaction, every Saturday, if I had a hope of going to science camp that summer."

"Ooh, the no-science-camp threat. Pulling out the big guns, she was!" The softness in her eyes belied Sara's mocking words. "She knew how to push your buttons."

"She sure did. So she laid down the law, and then she signed, is that clear?"

"I knew I had met myf match, but I thought I'd be smart about it." Grissom pursed his lips, feeling himself flush with ages-old embarrassment.

"Smart, as in clever, or smart as in ...?" asked Sara.

"Smart as in stupid, but I thought I was being funny. Witty, even." He could see the scene in his mind's eye, vivid despite the passing of the years. "She was deaf, and signing without vocalizing, so I said 'loud and clear, Mom'."

Sara winced.

"She looked at me, just looked at me and I wished the words back. She didn't tell me off, she just looked at me and I realized how cruel I had been." Grissom sighed. "She never let me forget it, and it became her go-to phrase, the one she expected me to say to show I had taken on board her latest guidance or instruction. Maybe it was a harsh lesson, but I learned it well."

He attempted a smile, which was a wan approximation of his usual warm grin, and waved his hand, as if trying to waft away the memories. "It's funny the things that you remember ..."

And just like that, they were both transported to another time years ago when Grissom finally stepped beyond his self-imposed barriers, and learned of Sara's family tragedy.

For a moment they stared at each other in silence, remembering. Then Sara shook herself and said, as drolly as possible, "She's a force to be reckoned with, your mom."

Lost for words, Grissom rubbed his furry chin.

Sara pointed her forefinger in the air, as she recalled something she'd been meaning to tell him. "And the Force wants to try to make it up to me, to us. She insists on taking us out to dinner when you're next here. The deal is, I pick the restaurant, you choose the date and she'll make it happen."

"So, she and I both want to know, when will you be here?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes the second<strong> I hope that wasn't too odd. Part 2 will appear as soon it's ready. I have next week off, so that's promising.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title** Life's What You Make It  
><strong>Author<strong> wobbear  
><strong>Rating<strong> T  
><strong>Pairing<strong> Grissom/Sara  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong> I am a fanfic writer, not CBS. Just needed to make that clear.  
><strong>Author's notes<strong> This is the second half of the massively overdue fic that **elfling65** won in the fandomaid auction for Japan much earlier in the year. She has kindly agreed to me posting it, so our fellow GSR fanatics can have something else to read. Her prompts were: rain, Hank drooling, a blackmail photo op, nail polish. I covered the latter two in this chapter, although I rather fudged the blackmail one ...

Set after _The Two Mrs Grissoms_.

**Summary** Remember that Skype call Grissom had with the two Mrs Gs, and how Grissom said the three of them would have dinner "soon"? Read on.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter 2<em>**

Finally, just to the left of a huge flat screen TV advertising the Rampart Hotel group, Grissom spotted her. His heart leapt and a wide smile spread across his face. He quickened his pace, not wanting to wait a second longer to hold her in his arms. Then he had an idea.

He watched as she scanned the crowd of arriving passengers. She hadn't seen him yet. He was behind a group of giant young men, whose bags announced them as DePaul basketball players, and they served as an excellent screening device.

After her latest fruitless survey, Sara looked frustrated, and bent her head to check her phone, probably to see if she had missed a message from him. Her hair fell down in a curtain, further aiding his stealthy approach.

When he was close enough, Grissom leaned toward Sara's hair-covered ear and whispered loudly, "I told you that Angry Birds was addictive."

"Wha-I'm not ... Gil!"

Sara wrapped her arms around Grissom's neck as she melted into his enveloping embrace.

Once their initial need for contact had abated, Grissom moved back a pace, caressing his hands down Sara's arms all the way to her trembling fingers.

"Why the shakes?" he murmured, suddenly thinking maybe his surprise attack had been a bad idea. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you ..." he fell silent as he admitted to himself, that yes, he had planned precisely that.

"Much," added Sara helpfully, a warm smile brightening her face.

Grissom tilted his head, acknowledging that she was right, and clasped Sara's hands between his, rubbing them gently then lifting them up to his lips for a soft kiss.

"Sorry," he repeated. "Am I forgiven?"

"I think it's the adrenaline rush of finally seeing you more than the sneak attack, so yeah, I'll let you off this time.

Grissom smiled his gratitude as Sara continued, obviously unconcerned. "Did I tell you I like the new facial fur?"

"You like my Van Dyke?" He lifted her left hand up to his cheek and she stroked it, her eyes warm. "If you like it, I'll keep it."

"Yeah, you look very distinguished, plus it's easier to pinch your cheeks without beard on them." Matching deed to her words, she lighted tweaked his fur-free cheek.

He pulled away in mock dismay, saying, "Hey, did you turn into an Italian grandmother while I was in Peru?"

Sara put one hand on her hip and raised her brow saucily at him. "Well, what d'you think?"

"I think you ... " He took a moment to look properly at his wife. Glowing face, eyes alight with love, shining dark shoulder length hair hovering somewhere between wavy and curly (he loved it like that), wearing a dark sleeveless dress covered with tiny pink polka dots, and strappy sandals that could have graced the feet of a gladiator, albeit a very feminine one. The final, perfect touch: peeking out through the sandal straps, Sara's toenails glowed pink with opalescent polish. Grissom laughed, hardly able to believe his good fortune, "You ... you're my gorgeous wife."

Sara rewarded him with a serious kiss and was leaning in for another when she caught sight of something over his shoulder. "Um, hey ... it's 5:45 already. Remember we're meeting your Mom 6:30 at Mint?"

He grimaced. "Do we have to?"

"Hey, buster, I know I chose the restaurant, but you set the day and time. If you want to back out, you're texting your Mom, not me."

"Yeah ... seemed a good idea at the time, meet her as soon as I arrive and then she'd leave us in peace for at least a week, or at least until Sunday brunch rolls around." Grissom made a frustrated face and huffed a sigh, then smiled faintly as he extended his hand to Sara. "If you're still game, I say we get it over with. Not that I hate my mother, but ..."

"Too much of a good thing?" suggested a giggling Sara.

Suddenly Grissom beamed, his eyes alight with mischief. "Mom hates me with a beard. I guarantee she'll be on my case to shave it off."

* * *

><p>He held the door to Mint Indian Bistro open for Sara and followed her through, then Grissom lightly grasped her arm to keep her from going straight to the welcome desk. "Sara ..."<p>

She turned back, enquiry in her eyes as she pushed her sunglasses on top of her head.

"I'm just going to have a quick 'rest' before we sit down." Grissom grinned cheerfully at Sara and scooted of reach. She was heartily tired of his very old joke, but somehow he could never resist teasing her. The fact that she always reacted to the line was, of course, why he kept on doing it. He had learned, however, to move more than arm's length away as she always tried to get back at him, whether by pinching his cheek, or tickling him or ... It was very juvenile of Sara, he thought. Me too, he eventually admitted to himself.

She frowned at him, all the while trying to hide the smile that was fighting her best efforts to keep a straight face. Amused, he watched the war of her facial muscles for a moment until she gave up, opting to ignore him, or at least pretend to. All she said was, "I'll wait here."

Grissom nodded and pushed open the men's room door, still grinning. It was great to be home.

* * *

><p>Sara slouched against the wall near the greeter's desk, relaxing as she waited. Since what she had taken to thinking of as the "don't speak, won't tell" talk with Betty about her and Grissom's sex life being off limits, she and Betty were thankfully on a better footing. But Sara was still uneasy spending too much time with her mother-in-law. A small part of the problem was the restricted nature of their communication, but that was getting better all the time as she became more proficient at signing, and also realized how much Betty could pick up via lip reading. No, the larger issue was that Sara couldn't shake the feeling of close scrutiny, of being compared by Betty to the other women Grissom had had in his life, and somehow being found wanting.<p>

Beside the lectern-like desk was an enormous ficus plant, its plastic pot standing in a battered wicker basket. Through the dark green foliage she spotted a more comfortable waiting area, a pair of arm chairs and one sofa. The sofa was draped with a large paisley throw with a threadbare fringe and the squashy armchair bore an enormous pink faux fur pillow which contrasted considerably with its tweedy loose cover. The other chair was much more firmly stuffed, and intriguingly upholstered in black and white striped velour. Eclectic was the kindest way to describe the grouping. Sara was starting to move to the zebra zone when her eyes were drawn to the antiqued mirror above the sofa. Startled, she darted back behind the safety of the leafy screen.

Leaning back against the wall, she breathed deep and deliberately, willing her pounding heart to settle down. "Okay, that was an over-reaction," she muttered to herself, caught somewhere between embarrassment and hysteria. After a moment she leaned forward to sneak a peek through the leaves, wanting to make sure of what she thought she'd seen. Yep, she was right.

At a table over to the left of the main restaurant room Sara had caught sight of the distinctive gray curls on the back of an older woman's head, her hands in animated ASL conversation with ... Julia Holden, the deaf professor Grissom had known - in the biblical sense - way back when ... what was Julia doing there? Although they had moved past the awkward antagonism of their initial encounters, Sara hadn't counted on seeing Julia here tonight.

Sara cast her eyes idly around the rest of the room as she steeled herself to be sociable, or at least to polite to Julia, when her eyes stopped scanning, opened wide and she stepped back quickly behind her friend the ficus, thudding against the wall.

Wow.

"You have got to be kidding." Sara shook her head in disbelief, and scrunched her eyes closed as she leant back against the wall - thudded against the wall was a more accurate description, as it turned out to be further away than she had realized.

That's where Grissom found her when he emerged from the men's room, patting his pockets distractedly, wondering if he'd left his reading glasses in his laptop bag. Finally! Found them in his shirt pocket.

Smiling at his success and his wife, he asked, "So, shall we sidle on in?"

Surprised at Sara's lack of response, Grissom waved a hand in front of her glazed eyes, and enquired, "What's up?"

"Mmmm?" Sara started, apparently only now realizing that her husband had returned. She blinked, forcing her eyes to open wider and to focus.

"Sara, honey-"

"Did you gather yourself some really bad karma in a past life?" Sara's brow furrowed as she pouted, considering. "Or maybe it was me ... "

"What d'you mean?"

Sara flung her hand in the general direction of the dining area. "Your life is flashing before my eyes, and I'm trying to figure out why."

"Honey, I'm lost here." Grissom shook his head, completely confused.

"Over there chatting to your mother, is Julia Holden, and ..."

"Again, I'm sorry, honey, I never mentioned my, uh, relationship with Julia particularly when I knew she'd likely be at that party. It's just such ancient history I never think about-"

"Stop, Gil." Sara waggled her hand in the air to interrupt his renewed apology. He'd already apologized profusely via Skype, and Sara had moved on. "We've made our peace. I mostly feel sorry for Julia. Could I live without seeing her today, yes, but that's not the real problem."

"So, are we going in," he gestured to the dining area. "Or hunkering down behind the protective shield of this mighty ficus?"

"Look over there, past the bar." Sara pointed discreetly with her finger.

In a booth over to the right, facing the door and dressed in demure black, sat Heather Kessler. He hadn't expected that. Her. He hadn't even seen Heather since that torrid time after Sara had gone and he was floundering. Heather hadn't seen him - them - yet. Long may it last, he thought. He just wanted to have a quick meal with his mom then go home with his wife to properly celebrate his home coming.

Grissom shot a quick glance at Sara, who was frowning in Heather's direction.

"Uh, Gil ..."

Sara's reluctance to continue was obvious, but why? Grissom's brow raised in a silent question.

"I'll tell you later, but the short story is Ray and I went to see her on a case and she basically refused to speak to me, to even look at me when I spoke directly to her."

Grissom winced, shaking his head. "That sounds ... very strange, especially after you treated her so sensitively after her attempted suicide by cowboy ..."

Sara shrugged. "I dunno, maybe she was embarrassed for me to have seen her in that state. But that day with Ray, she was ... frankly, rude." She reflected, her eyes dimming as she remembered that day. "I don't think she likes the fact that we're happily married."

Grissom drew Sara close, one hand in the small of her back, the other between her shoulder blades and suddenly dipped her, leaning down to kiss her as she shrieked in surprise and clapped her hand to her mouth, to stifle any further squeals. With Grissom in this mood, who knew what he might do. With a very satisfied smile, he guided her back to the vertical, saying, "Well, she's just gonna have to get used to it."

Unfortunately Sara's shriek had attracted Heather's attention. She was gesturing to her companion, who turned around and was - Sara gasped with surprise - Jim Brass.

Sara eyes boggled for a moment before she straightened up, and sucked in a deep breath. Resolved, she announced, "Let's get this over with. I'm taking the high road. C'mon!"

And with that, she clutched Grissom's hand and strode with determination toward Brass's booth.

"Hola!" called Brass as he rose from his seat to greet them. "Grissom, long time, no see. Did you just get back?"

Grissom's mind was racing, trying to think of something less blunt to say than, 'What are you doing here, Jim?' Trouble was, his tired brain warped it into, 'What, are you doing her, Jim?' He swallowed and concentrated hard as he extended his hand to shake Brass's proffered one. He managed, "Yep, we came here directly from McCarran."

While Brass moved to hug hello to Sara, Grissom decided that formality was the way to go, so he nodded politely to Heather as he shook her hand too. Then he asked the most innocuous question he could think of, "What brings you to Mint?"

"The Tantric Tandoori Chicken." Heather pursed her lips, then allowed a touch of mirth to twinkle in her eyes.

Grissom looked skeptically at her and she pointed to the menu. "Look, here it is."

Sure enough, there it was. Before Grissom could think of a comeback, Brass was speaking.

"That's her story." Brass shook his head and cupped his hands near his lips, indicating he was trying to be discreet, and spoke out of the corner of his mouth. "We're setting up a blackmail photo op," he pointed at his companion, "against one of Heather's clients." He nodded for emphasis, as Sara frowned, incredulous.

"Really?"

"It's a sex with minors sting. See those girls over there?"

There were two mid-teen girls at one of the back tables, fiddling with their phones and giggling as they sipped what looked like the restaurant's signature Lassi drinks.

"Yeah ..." Sara didn't sound convinced, and Grissom was definite that if it was a real police operation Brass would not be talking about it in a public place.

Sara tucked her right hand into Grissom's elbow as she turned to Brass' companion and smiled sweetly. "Heather, I hope you're well. I haven't thanked you yet for prodding Gil towards leaving the lab."

Heather shook her head. "I just helped him to acknowledge his feelings, rather than ignoring them."

"Well ..." High road or no, Sara had nothing more to say to Heather Kessler, so she cast her eyes around and suddenly 'noticed' her mother-in-law. Julia Holden seemed to have vanished, and Betty now looked old, small and alone. Sara relinquished her grip on Grissom to wave animatedly at her mother-in-law, then headed over there, throwing a "nice to see you again" over her shoulder.

Hanging back for a moment, Grissom asked, "Had a few of the Mint martinis, Jim?" He tilted his head to soften the enquiry.

"Yeah, one or two." Brass rubbed his eyes and unseen by him, Heather indicated he was on his third.

Brass looked up at Grissom again, his face gray with exhaustion. "Ya know how it is ... tough case, rough week ... helluva year." He rubbed his eyes.

"Mmmmm." Grissom nodded in sympathy. "I'm back for a while, I'll call you and we'll set something up, a meal." Martini-free, he thought. Then he looked over at Sara's rapidly departing back and said hastily, "Sorry, got to go. Late for dinner with my Mom."

Grissom hustled over to join his wife, and she clutched his outstretched hand like a life line. He signed hello to his mother and hugged her, and she signed something to the effect, "Lovely to see you, hate the facial hair".

Grissom winked at Sara and they sat down, laughing.

END

* * *

><p>An: The restaurant is real, including the tantric tandoori chicken: check out mintbistro dot com. And if you have a moment, do please let me know what you thought of this. Thanks for reading!


End file.
